


Change is Gonna Come

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, on this little expedition?  You were the brawn.  I was the brains."  He pulls the wrinkled paper out of his pocket and shakes it.  "I'm the one making the damn map!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change is Gonna Come

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's tamingthemuse community, for the prompt "cartography"
> 
> * * *

They're halfway down the corridor when the walkers stumble out from the adjoining hallway.

Glenn is counting steps and scrawling notations on the paper in his hands, looks up when Daryl mutters "shit". The smell hits him first, the putrid stench of the decay, slamming into him like a fist to the face. In the bobbing light of the flashlight he sees the confused mass of rotting bodies, some of them in prison jumpsuits and some in the decomposing remains of suits and ties, long summer dresses. Which means that there's another break in the outer wall.

He hastily shoves the paper in his pocket and takes a few steps back, even as the first of the walkers goes down with an arrow to the eye socket. In the time it takes for him to draw his knife, the rest of the geeks have spilled out of the corridor and blocked their path. 

"Too many," Daryl grunts. "Go back!"

Daryl takes the lead, and they dart back the way they came, scrambling through darkened hallways. When they come to a T, Daryl dashes to the right. 

Glenn hesitates at the turn. "Wrong way!" he shouts.

"The hell you waitin' for?" Daryl yells back. "Come on!"

"No, but it's…." Glenn darts a glance over his shoulder. The nearest walker is only ten feet away, arms outstretched, mouth yawning wide and yellowed teeth snapping. He steps under the geek's reach, embeds his knife into the decaying skull, dances back when the walkers crumples at his feet. In the dim light he can see a dozen more behind it picking up the pace, feet dragging through the dirt and detritus on the floor. A dozen and then a dozen more behind them.

"Come on!" Daryl yells again. 

Glenn squints, sees Daryl waiting at another juncture, practically bouncing in place. To the left is a quick dash to the safety of their cell block. To the right, Daryl and the unknown. 

"Goddamnit," Glenn mutters. He swipes a hand through his hair and runs to catch up to Daryl.

* * *

"Least we know where to go if we need computer toner," Daryl says.

Glenn slumps against the wall of the supply closet. "I told you," he hisses. "I said WRONG WAY."

"Keep your voice down!"

Glenn glances nervously at the door. Though the shuffling footsteps in the corridor outside have mostly faded, he can still hear the occasional groan, the occasional bump as one of the walkers stumbles over a dead body or a piece of the office equipment that had been piled in the hallway as a makeshift barricade. He holds his breath when the crunch of glass indicates that a walker has staggered directly beneath the door; finally releases it when the stumbling footsteps head off further down the hallway. 

"I said you were going the wrong way," he says. "I was very clear about that."

Daryl shrugs. "Thought you were wrong."

"Okay, on this little expedition? You were the brawn. I was the brains." He pulls the wrinkled paper out of his pocket and shakes it. "I'm the one making the damn map!"

"Stupid fuckin' idea," Daryl mutters. "Long as our cell block is safe we don't need to go no further."

"Tell that to all the people from Woodbury crammed into our block," Glenn says. "Tell that to Rick."

"Think I ain't told him already?"

Glenn slumps against the wall. He's been witness to a few of those conversations between Rick and Daryl, knows that Daryl has made himself pretty damn clear about Rick's decision to bring the people of Woodbury to the prison. Glenn had thought that most of the Woodbury folk were in the dark about what the Governor was doing behind the scenes. That was until Daryl had taken him aside, pointed out a heavy woman in a flowing peasant skirt who was cooing over little Judith. 

"That one?" Daryl had said. "That one was standin' behind me in the arena. She kept screamin' when the Governor said me and Merle was gonna fight to the death. Was like bein' at one of them tent revivals, 'cept she wasn't seein' God. She was seein' our deaths. Gettin' off on what was gonna happen." He pointed to another, a thin man in tan pants. "That one spit on me." And another, an elderly woman. "That one was yellin' for them to bring out the biters, sic 'em on us." He had shaken his head. "These ain't good people. These ain't our people."

Glenn shakes his head, brought back to the present by the sound of a walker stumbling in the corridor. He realizes he's still holding the crumpled hand-drawn map, attempts to smooth it out before replacing it in his pocket. It occurs to him that it was one of the Woodbury folk who suggested mapping out the building, but not a one of them volunteered to do the actual dirty work. Not that they'd thought that this would happen, but… 

"I think we have to talk to Rick when we get back," he says. "The others, too. There's enough of us now that only two of us shouldn't be sent out like this. It's about time the people from Woodbury started pulling their weight."

"Rick ain't gonna like it."

"It's not a dictatorship. He'll listen." He pushes himself away from the wall. "Sounds like they're thinning out. You wanna make a run for it?"

He looks over to see Daryl grimace as he hops lightly down from where he's been perched cross-legged on an old photocopier. "Marathon sprint through a pack of walkers? Sure, ain't got nothin' else planned for today."

"And when we get back, we talk to Rick."

"And Hershel," Daryl says. "Old man wouldn't have been too pleased if one of his daughters got stuck with this detail."

"And Hershel," Glenn agrees. 

No more going out on supply runs with only Daryl and Maggie for back-up. No more crazy mapping expeditions. No more putting themselves on the line for a bunch of people who cheered for the imminent death of his friend. It's time for the Woodburians to stand up and prove themselves worthy of protection, or get the fuck out.

Things are going to change. They have to.


End file.
